Reclaimers
by Trap3r
Summary: This is a short little one shot I wrote for my little sister, who is a big IZ fan.


RECLAIMERS: A Halo/Zim Crossover

I stared at the city before me, bustling with life, watching the humans go on about with their daily lives, working, laughing, so oblivious to the wider galaxy. And I consider it a good thing, too. They are not yet ready to face the perils the universe has to offer. Not yet, but I have no doubt in my mind that they will one day become the holders of the Mantle of Responsibility, just like the Librarian wanted.

A human boy running down the street, trying to catch up with his peers

It reminded me of a distant time, when the Forerunners were once a numerous, proud, and prosperous race, guiding the galaxy and stewarding its peoples. It was a happy time, a fond time. That was before the parasite, before the Flood, came and threw everything into disarray, necessitating the activation of the Halo Array and the reseeding of life. And only I, and perhaps a few hundred other ancilla, survived to carry out the Great Plan for the humans. I was originally one of those assigned to watch over the Humans, to intervene if I noticed any foreign power sought to eradicate humanity, or enslave them.

Powers such as the Irken Empire.

The Irkens. What laughable fools, they are. They base their _entire_ culture and society on size alone, with the tallest ones holding the highest positions of government, and the smallest reduced to slave labor in one of their many factories. Which makes me wonder exactly how they haven't collapsed and died off, yet, with their two leaders, Red and Purple, being two of the most braindead morons I've seen. Though admittedly, they aren't even as stupid or egotistical as my so-called "master."

Zim.

The little green man had caused so much trouble to his Irken overlords, so much wanton death and destruction because he was too stupid to realize he was attacking his own home planet, they sent him here on assignment. And guess who they had tag along with him. Me, a Forerunner ancilla that they mistook for one of their dumb System Infiltrator Robots. Of course, in order to preserve my true identity as 152-Guiding Light, I had to take a new name, and a new persona, in order to blind my 'masters' to the truth. I acted like I was completely rampant when I first saw Zim, banging my head like a crazed lunatic. I muttered inane things, saying completely random things to annoy him, and willing myself to develop a taste for human Mexican cuisine. Which, by the way, is pretty enjoyable, considering the fact I really have no need to eat.

"GIR, where is the cloaking crystal? I need it to complete my stealth jet of DOOM!"

Didact, that man is demanding, and obviously obsessed with the apocalypse. I quickly mutter something about him crapping himself if he saw a Flood combat form before yelling back into the house.

"I sold it for a hundred bucks!" I exclaimed, hoping to annoy him with my antics.

It works, like always, as he comes out looking as red as a tomato.

"Why?" he says through clenched teeth, barely constraining his anger.

I smile, oh how I LOVE pissing that little wanker off. "Cause it looks so pretty as a necklace, master! And I needed the money to buy more tacos!" With that, he promptly turned around and slammed the door shut, yelling obscenities all the way down to his lab. I chuckle silently to myself, then turn back to watch the street. Across the street I see two familiar humans. Siblings to be precise. One of them, Dib, was ever watchful of this house. Some call him paranoid, insane even, to even suggest the presence of alien life among the human populace. I knew, however, that he was just being vigilant, though I wanted to assure him that Zim hardly classified as a threat to humanity. The other, Isabella, or Iz as she preferred to be called, pretended not to notice me as she played on smartphone. Iz, the stoic, taciturn one out of her family. She was only fifteen cycles old and I hear her and her vigilant brother possessed an incredible amount of luck, and they both possessed traits of leadership. In both of them, I recognize the Librarian's imprint, the instinctive knowledge they both possess. One day, their descendants will be the first of the ultimate human warriors, and will be named after a group of legendary soldiers. That will be the day humanity will prove itself ready to face it's Great Trial, and I have no doubt in my mind that they will succeed, and claim the Mantle, as was always meant for them. I turn back to go inside the house, but not before whispering one last thing to them, a prayer the Forerunners used to wish their Prometheans well. With that, I went back inside, as they made their way back to their own house, whose address was this:

House of John Bungie, PhD.

117 Spartan Avenue

Cincinnati, Ohio 513-42501.

The Reclamation, will begin soon. And the Irkens, or anyone else for that matter, will be hopeless to stop it. So say I, GIR, or 152-Guiding Light.


End file.
